


As Long As I'm With You

by BubbleGumLizard



Series: Mystrade NaNoWriMo 2015 [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, NaNoWriMo, Secret Admirer, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-30 06:15:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5153315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BubbleGumLizard/pseuds/BubbleGumLizard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft Holmes has a secret admirer!  Who could possibly want to be with him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Long As I'm With You

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Poetry & Texting](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3713812) by [Mssmithlove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mssmithlove/pseuds/Mssmithlove). 



> If you followed me on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/maebellesarah), you probably have to follow me again, because I'm an idiot. 
> 
> Here's the fourth part of my NaNoWriMo series! I wrote this almost entirely today, after four hours of sleep and cleaning my entire house. I hope everyone enjoys it!
> 
> I totally overuse the texting thing in this. I love writing text message conversations. It's a sickness.

Mycroft Holmes returned home one night to find a beautiful floral arrangement in his house. There was a note next to it saying that the maid had accepted the flower delivery and that security had taken the necessary measures to ensure that the flowers weren’t some kind of attack.

He put his umbrella down and reached for the card that came with the arrangement. He had no idea who would even consider sending him flowers. Mycroft Holmes, the Ice Man, the British Government, lacking in knowledge only as was concerned with relationships, who hadn’t been in any kind of romantic or intimate relationship in over ten years, was not the sort of person who ever received flowers. For a brief moment, he considered the possibility that the flower delivery was a mistake: after a moment, he realized that the maid would have made sure that the delivery was going to the right person. He supposed that she was as surprised as Mycroft, suppressing a smile at the thought of her reaction when she realized that someone was sending him flowers.

Opening the card didn’t solve the mystery. In fact, it only made the situation worse.

**Dearest Mycroft,**

**I am consumed with thoughts of you. I would love to taste those perfect lips and hold your perfect body. The thought that I might one day possess you drives me in my every day life.**

**Love,**

**Your Secret Admirer**

Mycroft carried the flowers to his study, setting them on a side table. He sat at his desk and looked at the card again. The card was typed: probably called into the florist with instructions to deliver at a specific time. There were some clues based on the wording used on the card, but nothing that would definitively prove who sent the flowers. He considered that he could easily figure out who had sent them, but he stopped himself. Perhaps he was getting romantic in his old age, but he didn't want to ruin the surprise. Telling himself that he was simply interested in learning more about human nature, he tucked the card into his desk and went about his normal evening.

*** 

It was another two weeks before something he heard anything from his secret admirer. Once again, he came home from work and found something waiting for him at home. This time, it was a very expensive box of chocolates.

**My Dearest Mycroft,**

**I am still thinking of you constantly. I thought these chocolates might sweeten your day the way thoughts of you sweeten mine.**

**When I see you, I want to hold you and kiss you until you are consumed with thoughts of me the way I'm consumed with thoughts of you.**

**All my love,**

**Your Secret Admirer**

**P.S. I don't care what a certain prat thinks about your weight: you are perfect.**

Mycroft felt himself glowing with pleasure. He had no idea who it was who was sending him things, but it was very flattering. As he settled into a chair in his study with the chocolates, he considered who he had seen lately. The reference to Sherlock narrowed it down a bit, but not very: Sherlock was very vocal about his criticisms of Mycroft's appearance. Any number of people might know what Sherlock said. He worried briefly that his stiff upper lip was slipping, though. If this random person knew that Mycroft was bothered by what Sherlock said, maybe he needed to work on his reactions more.

There was a knock on the door and Greg Lestrade walked in. "Evening, mate," Greg said, sitting down in the chair across from Mycroft.

Mycroft smiled at him. He had nearly forgotten that it was his usual meeting night with Greg. They had started meeting once a month when Sherlock was still in the throes of his drug addiction, brainstorming ways to help him and supporting each other as they dealt with his addiction. The meetings became unnecessary as Sherlock kicked the habit, but they continued meeting anyway, enjoying the time that they spent together. For the past several years, they had been meeting to share drinks and friendly conversation.

"What's that?" Greg asked, nodding at the box in Mycroft's hand.

Mycroft handed the box and card over to him. "They came today. Two weeks ago it was flowers." He retrieved the card from the flowers and handed it to Greg as well. "What do you make of it?"

"Looks like someone loves you," Greg said with a grin. "What are you going to do about it?"

Mycroft shrugged. "I thought I might just see what happens."

"It's a bit creepy, though, isn't it? Some person watching you from afar, thinking about you like that?"

Mycroft blushed. "Actually, I think it's rather romantic. I understand being afraid to approach someone."

"What if it's a man?" Greg asked suddenly. "You were picturing a woman, weren't you?"

Mycroft frowned. They had never discussed his sexuality before. He knew Greg was straight, the wife of twenty years told Mycroft that, but that wasn't something you just blurt out to your friends apropos of nothing. "Well, I am hoping that it is a man. After all, I am..."

"Gay? Okay. We never discussed it." Greg was giving him one of the easy grins that completely disarmed Mycroft.

"That isn't a problem?"

"Of course not. I like you for your personality, nothing else."

Mycroft smiled back. It had been so long since he had been in a relationship that he hadn't bothered to come out to anybody in years. It was nice to know that Greg wasn't bothered by it.

"I'm a little surprised that you aren't using your power to figure out who it is. Surely you can check the CCTV or something? I would expect that you would want to know."

Mycroft considered that for a moment. "Frankly, it just seems like more fun to see what he has planned."

Mycroft poured the two of them a drink and handed Greg his. "Are you going to eat these, then? I thought you had your diet to worry about."

"A little chocolate isn't going to hurt anything."

***

The next week, a bottle of Mycroft's favorite wine was waiting for him. He was a bit surprised by this one: this particular wine was extremely expensive, the sort of wine that only the wealthiest could afford. The way the notes were written, Mycroft had assumed that his admirer wasn't wealthy: the way he wrote, he seemed more like an average person, something Mycroft had liked. He supposed that the person still spoke like an average person, so being able to afford such a nice bottle of wine wasn't necessarily a strike against him. Mycroft tried to think of his acquaintances who could afford something like this. None of them were men he particularly cared to date and none of them spoke like a normal person. He wondered, panicked, if the things were being sent by a woman, but after a moment's thought he dismissed those worries: the letter writer was almost certainly a man.

**My love,**

**Thank you for not trying to figure out who I am. I appreciate that you are enjoying the mystery as I am. All will be revealed soon, but for now I just want you to know that I love you more each day and am looking forward to the day when I may hold you in my arms.**

**Please text me at your earliest convenience.**

**With greatest regard,**

**Your Secret Admirer**

There was a number after the name. Curious, Mycroft typed the number into his phone. It didn't come up as belonging to any of his contacts, so it wasn't anyone he knew well enough to have his number. Thinking that the situation was getting more and more confused, Mycroft retired to his study and poured himself a glass of the wine.

After the second glass, Mycroft felt ready to send the text message.

**Is this how having a secret admirer works in the digital age? MH**

The response came almost immediately, making Mycroft wonder if whoever it was had been waiting for the text. Did this person know Mycroft's schedule?

**Seems like it. It's nice that we can talk like this. I'm so happy you texted. YSA**

**Do think this might be getting a little creepy? You seem to know so much about me and I know nothing about you. MH**

Mycroft knew that he was taking something of a risk, suggesting that his admirer was creepy. He didn't want to risk offending whoever it was, but he wondered why someone would do something like this.

**I'd rather you see it as romantic. If you think I'm creepy, I will stop. If you agree with me, I will keep sending you gifts. YSA**

**I agree with you. Frankly, this is the most romantic thing that has ever happened to me. The men I've dated have never been much interested in romance. I'm enjoying it immensely. MH**

**May I ask you a question? YSA**

**If I may ask you one. MH**

**How do you know that I'm a man? YSA**

**It is obvious by your word choice. How did you know that I'm interested in men? MH**

**Dumb luck, mostly. I just sent the gifts and hoped. I'm quite pleased to find out that I was correct. YSA**

**How long have you been interested in me? MH**

**Almost since the first time I met you. It’s been years, at least two. The first time I saw you, I went home and took an extra-long shower. I have regularly taken longer showers since then, thinking about you.**

**I cannot think of who you possibly could be. You know both me and Sherlock and can afford such a nice bottle of wine... MH**

**I'm full of surprises. YSA**

**Will I be surprised when I find out who you are? MH**

**Hopefully you'll be pleasantly surprised. YSA**

**Getting nervous that I might not like you? MH**

**Extremely. YSA**

**I'm confident that I will like you. So far, you are doing well. Keep this up and I'm sure I'll be in love with you in no time. MH**

**It's good that you can't see me. I'm blushing like a schoolgirl. YSA**

Mycroft sighed. He was really curious about who this was. His last relationship, like all of his relationships, had been one of convenience. He had never been in love and had never had anyone say such nice things to him as this man had said in three letters. He knew that it was likely that he wouldn't be attracted to this man, or that they would get to know each other better and the man would realize that he didn't really love Mycroft, that it was just some strange infatuation. Perhaps Mycroft would have some few moments of joy while the man was figuring that out.

**I'd like to see that. I have never made anyone blush before. MH**

**You make me blush all the time, I'm just great at hiding it. YSA**

**How often do we see each other? MH**

**Can't tell. Then you'd guess who I am. YSA**

**This is exceedingly frustrating. MH**

**Imagine how I feel, seeing you in those sexy suits and not being able to touch you or see what's underneath. YSA**

Mycroft blushed. He could not remember anyone ever calling him sexy before. It was nice to have someone say such things about him, even if he was sure that it wasn't true. Panic raced through him at the thought that this man wanted to see him naked: he had never particularly been anxious about being seen naked, but no one had ever had such high expectations, either.

**I feel you may be letting your imagination run away with your expectations. I am not what one might call 'sexy'. MH**

**Don't be silly. Of course you're sexy. I wouldn't say it if it weren't true. I can barely control myself around you. I want to taste every inch of you. YSA**

Mycroft didn't know how to respond. The thought of someone taking his time and running his tongue and mouth all over Mycroft's body made him ache with want. Perhaps it had been too long since he had had sex, he thought before mulling over the correct response.

**Go on... MH**

**Eager for more, are you? In my imagination you're gagging for it, like I am. YSA**

In Mycroft's position, it was always better to be conservative with his words in public. Not knowing who this was that he was talking to, he needed to avoid saying anything that could negatively affect him. He decided to go for humor as a response.

**I can neither confirm nor deny. MH**

**Playing coy, huh? Well, I'll just have to let my fantasies run wild. YSA**

**Not too wild, I hope. MH**

**No. I do have a job. If I let them go crazy, I'd never get anything done. Speaking of my job, I need sleep now. Goodnight, love. YSA**

**Goodnight. MH**

Mycroft looked at his watch and realized that he, too, should be in bed. WIth a sigh he made his preparations, running through the conversation in his mind, trying to decide if there were any clues to the identity of his admirer. He couldn't think of anything, but the person he was talking to sounded very familiar. He couldn't quite put his finger on how the person was familiar, he just knew that he knew that voice.

***

The next morning, Mycroft woke up to a text that made him glow with pleasure all day long.

**Good morning, sexy. I enjoyed texting with you last night. You have made me happier than I have ever been. Have a nice day today. YSA**

He went about his business, trying to put the texts out of his mind. When he arrived at his office, he was surprised to find Greg there. "Good morning," he said, sitting down.

"Not really. I haven't been to sleep yet," Greg told him with a sigh. He looked exhausted, but he smiled at Mycroft. Mycroft considered how happy Greg always was to see him. He stopped his thoughts abruptly: Greg clearly wasn't his secret admirer. Not only was Greg straight, but he was also married, as far as Mycroft knew. They didn't talk very often about Greg's personal life. Mycroft of course knew that Greg's wife cheated on him, but he also knew that Sherlock had told Greg, so he didn't see a reason to tell him as well.

"What can I do to help?" Mycroft asked, trying to look sympathetic.

"Nothing, really. I had a short break and I was nearby. I thought it would help my mood to see a friendly face."

Mycroft smiled broadly. It was nice that someone saw him as a "friendly face". "Let me have my assistant get you a cup of coffee," he said, sending a quick message on his computer. "Why didn't you nip home to see your wife?"

Greg frowned and then looked at his hands. "We split up, actually."

"When?" Mycroft frowned.

"Last year. I didn't tell you because everyone else in my life was already treating me like a wounded animal. I didn't think I could take that from you as well. I like that you treat me like a real person instead of someone to be pitied."

"I would never pity you," Mycroft said softly. "I wish you had told me, so I could be available if you needed me, but I wouldn't have treated you any differently."

Greg smiled warmly, looking back up at him. "Thanks, mate." He accepted the cup of coffee from the assistant who brought it in and drank it, sighing happily.

"There is somewhere you can sleep here, if you're tired," Mycroft said. He surprised himself by the offer. It was sometimes necessary in his work for him to spend the night in his office, so he had set up a nearby empty office like a bedroom. It even had an attached shower. "And you can shower. I have some spare shirts that might fit you, too."

"That would be wonderful," Greg said, sounding exhausted.

Mycroft smiled and led Greg to the office. There was a queen bed in there, dressed with expensive silk sheets. Mycroft pulled some pajamas and a clean shirt out of a drawer and handed them to Greg. "They won't fit perfectly, but they'll be much more comfortable than your clothes. When you're done sleeping, the shower is through there. You'll find everything you need inside."

"I really appreciate this, Mycroft."

"What are friends for?" Mycroft asked with a smile, leaving him.

Two hours later, Greg came back into Mycroft's office. He looked very refreshed and quite handsome in Mycroft's shirt. "I slept too long, but I didn't want to leave without saying thank you. Let me make it up to you by buying you dinner."

Mycroft nodded, smiling. "I would enjoy that, thank you."

"I'll text you to set it up," Greg called over his shoulder as he rushed out. Mycroft smiled, happy that he had made Greg feel better.

***

The next night, Mycroft met Greg at a quiet restaurant for dinner. "This is nice,” Greg said, relaxing into his seat and taking a sip of the wine.

“I have been looking forward to this,” Mycroft said, drinking from his own glass. “I enjoy spending time with you.”

“We don’t spend nearly enough time together,” Greg said. His eyes met Mycroft’s and seemed to linger.

Mycroft was interested to see that Greg was showing several signs of attraction. Mycroft smiled a slow, shy smile to see how Greg would react. His eyes widened slightly and his respiration picked up slightly. Mycroft flicked his eyes down to Greg’s lips and then back up to his eyes, watching for a reaction, enjoying the emotions that were playing out on his face.

It all led him to conclude one thing: Greg Lestrade wanted him. His phone beeped and Mycroft broke the eye contact to look at it.

**I’m wishing I were with you tonight. YSA**

Mycroft’s breath caught in his throat. He suddenly felt like he was being unfaithful to his secret admirer, which was ridiculous. He couldn’t be unfaithful to someone he wasn’t in a relationship with, no matter how much he enjoyed receiving little presents from him.

The rest of the night, Mycroft felt a little uncomfortable. Luckily, the moment with Greg didn't repeat itself. Greg seemed perfectly happy to have a normal night. They returned to Mycroft's house, to his study where they normally met. When Greg walked in, he looked around, seeing the empty bottle of wine, vase from the flowers, and the box of chocolates.

"So this is still happening?" Greg asked.

Mycroft nodded. "We're texting now."

"And?"

Mycroft sighed, unsure how to answer. "He's...he's unlike any man I've ever known. He seems to find me attractive."

Greg laughed. "That's not strange. Lots of people find you attractive."

"That I find doubtful."

"Well, you've been in relationships before, surely. Those men must have found you attractive."

Mycroft shrugged. "I am not sure. None of them were real relationships, so much as they were matters of convenience."

"'Matters of convenience'? What does that mean?"

"They were mostly men who were as busy as I was and needed an arrangement where they would be able to have the release that they needed without complications."

"So you've never had a boyfriend?" Mycroft was surprised to see Greg sound so shocked. "You've never had romance?"

"When I was young, I never had the time or the inclination. I suppose I do not see a relationship as something that is important."

"That's sad," Greg said softly, looking into the fire. "You should have someone who cherishes you. Everyone should."

Mycroft shrugged, pouring himself another drink. "Well, maybe that is something good that can come out of this secret admirer thing. I have never desired a real relationship, but I have to say that it doesn't sound like such an awful thing with this man. He seems very nice."

"So he isn't an axe murderer?" Greg asked, his eyes twinkling. 

"I hope not," Mycroft said, returning his smile.

"I never expected anything like this," Mycroft said seriously. "I suppose I always thought that romantic things just weren't for me."

"I understand the feeling. After my divorce, I decided to be more spontaneous and romantic."

"Have you been dating anyone?" Mycroft felt a stab of jealousy at the suggestion that Greg might date someone, which surprised him. He hadn't realized that he felt that way about Greg.

"Unfortunately, no. I've been busy with work and haven't met very many people who interest me. I want someone very different from my ex-wife."

Mycroft idly wondered just how different Greg meant. He thought perhaps that he might be someone that Greg would like to date. Probably not, he told himself, don't get your hopes up and lust after a straight man.

When Greg left for the night, Mycroft looked at the message he had received from his secret admirer. He wasn't sure how to reply, feeling guilty about the things he was thinking about Greg. He went to bed, deciding to text his secred admirer in the morning.

A few minutes after he had retired to bed, his phone rang. When he answered it, he noticed that it was from his secret admirer.

"Hello?" he asked, wondering how his secret admirer was calling him: if Mycroft knew him, he was sure to recognize his voice.

A moan came from the phone speaker. "Oh, Mycroft," a low voice said, deep and gravelly with lust.

"Who are you?" Mycroft asked quietly.

The moaning continued, escalating in volume until it ended with a shout of “Mycroft!” Mycroft could hear heavy breathing on the other end of the line and he realized that he was hard.

“I need to know who you are,” Mycroft told the breathing. “I need to see you.”

“I love you, Mycroft,” the voice on the other end of the line whispered. “I don’t want to lose you by telling you who I really am.”

“You’re not going to lose me. I want to be with you. Tell me who you are.”

“Soon,” the voice whispered and the phone call ended.

A few moments later, a text came.

I wanted you to hear what you do to me. No one has ever had that affect on me. You are the sexiest person I have ever seen. YSA

**Tell me who you are. MH**

**I can’t just yet. I need to make sure you love me first. I can’t lose you by you finding out who I am. If I lost you, I wouldn’t have anything. YSA**

**You’re not going to lose me. MH**

***

Two days later, there was a bottle of wine left at Mycroft’s doorstep, an even more expensive bottle, the type of wine that belonged to a collector. This was different: everything else had been delivered professionally. This, on the other hand, had been hand delivered, presumably by someone who didn’t want to knock on the door for fear of being recognized.

**My love,**

**I didn’t want to risk anything happening to this bottle, so I delivered it myself and watched to make sure you received it. This bottle is precious. It belonged to my grandfather, who collected fine wines. This was his prized possession. It belongs with you now.**

**YSA**

Mycroft looked more closely at the bottle and realized its real value. The thought that someone would give him a bottle of wine like that was nearly unbelievable. It was the sort of wine that stayed in a family for generations. Whoever gave Mycroft this was either really rich or from an extremely old family.

**This is too much. MH**

**Nothing is too much for you. YSA**

**I don’t deserve this. You should save this for someone who can give you everything people need in a relationship. I am not capable of having a normal relationship. MH**

**Nonsense. You’re just as capable as anyone. YSA**

Mycroft set his phone down, frowning. He picked it up again, calling Greg.

“May I please come over?” he asked when Greg answered. “I need your advice and I’d like it in person.”

“Of course. I’ll text you the address,” Greg said.

Mycroft had never been to Greg’s house. He was surprised to see a very nice house. He expected Greg’s house to be more modest. This house, however, was on the large side and was very well kept up and decorated.

Greg showed him into the living room, giving him a drink. “What’s wrong?” Greg asked, sitting down and gesturing for Mycroft to sit as well.

“I’m overwhelmed,” Mycroft said, sitting on the edge of the chair. He gripped his glass tightly, but didn’t drink. “He gave me a priceless bottle of wine. An heirloom. It’s too much.”

“What makes you say it’s too much? Hasn’t he given every indication that he loves you?”

“He has, but we aren’t in a relationship. Yet.”

"So you are sure that you want to be in a real relationship with him?" Greg asked.

Mycroft nodded. "I was sure before the wine. Actually, I didn't need any of the gifts. They are amazing, but I do not need things. It's so much for him to have given me all of these things. I enjoy nice things, but I don't need them from a boyfriend. If I'm going to have a boyfriend, I need love and attention, not things."

Greg nodded. A phone rang in the other room and Greg sighed. "That's my phone. It could be work, I have to get it."

Mycroft nodded, standing and beginning to pace as Greg left. While he was pacing, he pulled out his phone.

**I think I love you. I need to meet you. Now. MH**

He sent the text and resumed his circuit of the room. After a moment, a phone chimed on a side table. Mycroft frowned: hadn't Greg said that he was going to answer his phone, which was ringing? He went over to look at the phone, which was different than the phone that Mycroft usually saw with Greg. He picked it up. It was password protected, but Greg's password was easy enough to guess. 

Mycroft was completely unprepared for what he saw when the screen unlocked. He was looking at a text conversation, a text conversation that he had seen before. The new alert was from a text that was part of the conversation, a text from Mycroft.  
Mycroft tried to process what he was seeing as quickly as possible. It was Greg. Greg was his secret admirer. Greg was the one sending the notes and gifts, Greg was the one texting him, Greg was the one masturbating to visions of Mycroft...  
Just then, Greg rushed into the room fantically. When he saw the phone in Mycroft's hand and the look on Mycroft's face, he went completely white. "What are you doing with that?" he asked, sounding panicked.

"It isn't your normal phone. Where did you get it?" Mycroft asked, unsure how to proceed.

"It's my new phone. I needed a new one because of the divorce. I'm slowly switching everything over to it."

"I'll need the number," Mycroft said, feeling numb.

"You already have it," Greg told him, looking like he might faint.

"Why?" Mycroft asked.

"What?"

"Why did you do this?"

"Why? I don't understand," Greg looked confused.

"Why would you send me this stuff? Why would you tell me those things?" Mycroft was suddenly worried that it had all been a joke, that Greg was toying with him for some reason.

"Because it's true," Greg told him. "All of it is true."

"But you're straight. And you only divorced last year."

Greg flushed bright red. "My wife cheated, but I was in love with someone else long before that happened. And I'm not straight. Not entirely. Bisexual, I suppose. Or maybe Mycroft-sexual. I've never reacted to anyone the way I react to you."

"This can't be right," Mycroft said, shaking his head to clear it. None of it made sense.

Greg crossed the room and put his hands on Mycroft's shoulders. He looked into Mycroft's eyes and without hesitation leaned in for a kiss. 

It was the best kiss of Mycroft's life. No one had ever kissed him like that, like he was the only person who mattered in the world, like he was irresistible. "I love you, Mycroft," Greg said breathlessly. Mycroft recognized the tone of his voice from the phone call and was immediately hard, thinking about it.

"I love you, Greg," Mycroft told him, capturing his lips again. 

Greg pushed Mycroft up against the wall, grinding into him. "I've wanted you for so long. I can't stop thinking about you. I want to spend every minute of every day with you."

Mycroft moaned, pressing back against Greg. He wrapped his arms around Greg as they kissed, rolling his hips and moaning at the contact.

"I want you inside me," Greg groaned, reaching down and unbuttoning Mycroft's trousers. "I want you to fuck me. I need you."

"Oh, yes," Mycroft said, following Greg to the bedroom. He pushed Greg back onto the bed and climbed on top of him, grinding down into him. "I want to fuck you so badly. I've never wanted anyone more."

***

What seemed like hours later, Mycroft lay in Greg's bed in a post-coital happiness haze, his arm wrapped posessively around Greg. "Why didn't you tell me before?" Mycroft asked, pressing a kiss to Greg's temple.

"I didn't want to lose you. I wanted you for so long, I thought that if you weren't interested in me you wouldn't want to be friends anymore."

Mycroft chuckled. "I have been very anxious the past couple days. My sexy friend just told me that he had been divorced and there were some moments where I could swear he wanted me. So amazingly sexy, I wanted to be with him so badly. But then there was my secret admirer, who was giving me extremely expensive gifts and writing me the sweetest notes and texts. I didn't know what to do."

Greg chuckled. "That's quite the dilemma."

"Where did the wine come from?" Mycroft asked suddenly, remembering it. "I didn't realize that you were so wealthy."

"I'm not wealthy. Well, I'm not that wealthy. You were right. It was an heirloom. It's been in my family since it was bottled."

"Why would you give it to me? You thought I might not even want to be friends when I found out. Did you think you could buy my affections?"

"Don't be daft. I have little interest in wine and I have no heirs to inherit it. I knew you would appreciate it. Whether we ended up together or not, I wanted you to have it."

Mycroft kissed Greg gently. "You are very sweet, Detective Inspector Lestrade."

Greg smiled, wrapping his arm around Mycroft's middle and squeezing him. "Only to those I love, Mister Holmes."

"I love you, too, Greg."

“I’m so happy,” Greg said quietly. “I never dreamed that things would go this well. Oh, and you are even sexier under the suits than I dreamed.”

“You are clearly delusional,” Mycroft said with a smile.

“Delusional is fine, as long as I’m with you.”


End file.
